The Serpent Bride. Sara Douglass
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resulting in the acquisition of yet more new territory.
“Why,” Axis asked, “were the Eastern Independencies so hard to —”
“That is not the issue now,” Isaiah said, his tone tight, and Axis knew this was not the time to push the point.
“So instead you ally with the Skraelings in the frozen northern wastes,” Axis said. “An interesting alliance.”
“It cannot fail,” Isaiah said. “The Central Kingdoms, the Outlands and their allies will not be able to resist us.”
Axis was trying hard to reconcile this Isaiah with the one who had handed him the Goblet of the Frogs. He realised, very suddenly, that there was no contradiction at all. Isaiah was a man genuinely unsuited to tyranny, which made him immensely vulnerable, which in its turn made him even more determined to win for himself a great military victory that resulted in the conquering of vast lands.
The only question in Axis’ mind was why Isaiah was so determined to cling to his throne. Axis thought that Isaiah was not one who needed the magnificence of throne and title and power of life and death over millions in order to bolster his self-esteem.
So why the need to ally with the Skraelings in order to achieve military victory? Why embark on a course which would result in the death of tens of thousands?
“I need a friend, here at court,” Isaiah said, his eyes watching Axis carefully as if he could understand the train of Axis’ thoughts. “I have none. No one I can trust.”
“If you want me to be your friend, then tell me why you want this invasion so badly. The real reason, Isaiah.”
Isaiah held his gaze for a long moment. “And so I will tell you,” he said, “when I am certain I can trust you.”
Axis laughed softly, shaking his head. “Why do I find it impossible to remain angry with you, Isaiah?”
“Will you be my friend, Axis?”
“I will not aid you to invade the Central Kingdoms. I will not, under any circumstances, condone any action that sees you ally with Skraelings.”
“Be my conscience then, if friendship is too difficult.”
Isaiah’s eyes twinkled, and Axis again shook his head in amusement. Isaiah was impossible to dislike.
“Your conscience, then,” Axis said.
“Good,” Isaiah said, taking Axis’ hand, and Axis sensed that Isaiah was truly relieved.
“Now,” said Isaiah, glancing at one of the windows, “it grows dark, and I fear I am late for an appointment with wife number fifty-nine. Can you find your way back to your apartment by yourself?”
Axis was struck firstly by the fact that at least Isaiah trusted him enough to allow him to wander the palace, and secondly to the casual mention of wife number fifty-nine.
“How many do you have?” Axis asked, aghast.
“Urn, eighty-four, I think.”
“So many?”
“I find myself displeased by a woman’s body when she is pregnant. So as my wives fall pregnant, I send them back to the women’s quarters and take to myself another wife. Also, many of the dependencies send me wives, hoping thus to garner my favour.”
“And you love none of them.” It was not a question.
“They are meaningless to me, Axis. I do not have an Azhure in my life.”
The sudden mention of his wife upset Axis more than he’d thought possible. He was shocked to find his eyes filling with tears as a terrible ache consumed him.
“I am sorry, Axis,” Isaiah said, the man of deep compassion now fully returned.
Axis nodded, then turned away.
Two hours later Axis lay awake in his chamber, hands behind his head, staring into the darkness.
Azhure.
He hadn’t thought much about her since Isaiah had pulled him back into life, but Isaiah’s words earlier brought home to Axis how much he missed her.
I do not have an Azhure in my life, Isaiah had said.
Neither, now, did Axis. She was dead, he was alive, and Axis had no idea if he would ever see her again. Who knew how many otherworlds there were? Who knew whether, once he died from this life, he would return to Azhure’s side?
Besides, how long was he to live now ?
The thought of enduring perhaps fifty years without his wife kept Axis awake throughout the night.
“Damn you, Isaiah,” Axis muttered as the dawn light slowly filtered into his chamber, but there was no anger in his voice, only an infinite sadness.
PALACE OF AQHAT, TYRANNY OF ISEMBAARD
Isaiah did not go back to his private quarters after talking with Axis. Instead, restless and uncertain, he went down to the dark stables, saddled a horse (waving back to their beds the four or five grooms who hurried sleepy-eyed to serve their master), and rode the horse to the Lhyl.
He pushed the horse across the river, then rode south along the river road to where rose the great glass pyramid called DarkGlass Mountain. Isaiah did not once raise his eyes to look at it, but rode directly to a small door in its northern face where he hobbled the horse, and entered.
He walked through the black glass tunnels of the pyramid to its very heart — a golden-glassed chamber known as the Infinity Chamber.
Here Isaiah sat cross-legged in its very centre and meditated.
Kanubai — trapped deep beneath DarkGlass Mountain — and he were enemies. Bitter, terrible, lifetime enemies. Isaiah came here to expose himself to the beast, not only to test his own strength and resolve, but also to sense out his enemy and divine his strengths and weaknesses.
Time was when Kanubai’s weaknesses outnumbered his strengths.
Now, the strengths were gaining.
Isaiah visualised the abyss that sank into the very heart of the world. He concentrated on that abyss until it formed his entire consciousness, until he knew nothing but the abyss.
Then, gathering his courage, he cast his eyes down into the darkness.
When he had first started doing this, he had seen nothing, although he had felt the horror that lurked in the pit of the abyss.
Kanubai, cast down an infinity of ages ago.
But over the past few years Isaiah had started to see as well as sense Kanubai. The gleam of an eye.
Or perhaps a tooth.
The wetness of a tongue.
Now, as he had over the past year, Isaiah’s gaze managed to discern a blackened shape huddled against the walls of the abyss.
Kanubai was rising closer.
He was still far, far below, but every time Isaiah came here he could see that Kanubai was a little nearer.
Thin black fingers suckered into tiny cracks in the abyss.
A darkened face, staring upwards, feeling the weight of Isaiah’s regard.
Kanubai had once been stoppered tight in his abyss, but was no longer. Those ancient cursed Magi who had built the glass pyramid, and then opened it into Infinity, had unwittingly cracked open the stopper Isaiah and Lister had placed over the abyss.
Kanubai had been inching his way through that crack